Saving Him
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: It's been six months since Dom Cobb went to sleep on an airplane, and never woke up. Warning for character death. All team members feature.


Disclaimer: I do not own _Inception_, or its characters.

_Saving Him_

Yusuf isn't oblivious to the world that he dabbles in- but still, he only thinks of it as dabbling. There are plenty of legitimate concoctions in his shop, and plenty of legitimate customers. He has a very understanding girlfriend at his side and a very respectable degree on his wall. Naturally, the occasional forays into the field are a boon to his ego and his bank account. But still, he is a sideliner in this game. He dabbles.

And then, there are men like Arthur. Yusuf doubts that Arthur has ever dabbled in anything in his life. Cobb's righthand man is dressed impeccably despite the heat when he enters Yusuf's shop; Yusuf doesn't think to ask how he knows the location. Arthur just seems to know things.

He couldn't call him impolite. Arthur smiles as he shakes his hand, asks how he's been since the job. Smiles still as he answers that he's been all right, been laying low, taking time off to spend some of Saito's money. Doesn't stop smiling until Yusuf asks if there is any new word on Cobb. Then he's all business again.

"I'm using this time to work with some new compounds, as well." He glances around the shop. "Specifically working with how heavily the sedation is. Still just with one level though. What can you tell me?"

Yusuf leads him around the shop, his cat hissing now and then to demand attention. They've been at it for twenty minutes or so when Arthur adds, almost casually, "so which of these are safe to use in high amounts? Or rather, which would be lethal if used too heavily?"

They all would, Yusuf warns him, finding it an odd question. Arthur must know very well that any sedative leads to death if too much is administered. He must simply be wondering there are any especially strong, with especially low safe dosages.

"This is the trickiest," Yusuf tells him, holding aloft a rounded blue bottle. "It disappears into the bloodstream very, very quickly. So it works on dreamers with even the highest tolerance, but only two or three times the normal dosage at once is enough to kill."

Arthur nods, as though filing this information away. They talk for a while longer, that brief exchange forgotten. Then Arthur places his order. He lists fifty doses each of various drugs, slipping the blue bottle compound in somewhere in the middle. The manner in which he does this reminds Yusuf vaguely of a man ashamed of buying condoms, sneaking them in between more standard purchases. But he writes it off, totals up the bill. Considers giving Arthur the friends-and-family discount, but knows that after the Saito job, even this amount will be pocket change to him.

Arthur pumps his hand goodbye and takes his leave as uneventfully as he arrived. Petting absently at his cat's downy head, Yusuf stares after him.

A dabbler though he may be, he has developed some instincts, and he cannot completely ignore the feeling that something has just gone wrong. But with effort, he puts it aside. Uncertainty is a natural part of the game of Extraction. But if anyone can be trusted, Yusuf thinks, if anyone has the situation under control, it's Arthur.

* * *

This hospital is as much a part of Ariadne's visits home as her parents' house is now. And lately she has been flying back to the States as often as every other week. After the Inception job, she certainly has the money for it; after the Inception job, she also finds it increasingly necessary to remind herself that she can still be Ariadne, can still be a simple grad student with a life in the waking world. But she never has been good at shutting doors entirely. And so every time she's been home, she's visited Cobb as well.

Today, in fact, she has arranged the visit more for him than for her family. Today it's been six months, six months to the day since changed everything. Six months since seven people went to sleep on an airplane over the Pacific Ocean, and six people woke up in California.

Ariadne is startled but not surprised to see a slim, suited figure slipping out of Cobb's room. But when Arthur turns and she gets a good look at his face, the ground seems to disappear beneath her feet. Calm Arthur, composed Arthur, is trembling slightly, and has no blood left in his face.

"He's not…" she chokes.

Arthur nods. "Just now."

"Oh my God." Before it hits her, before she actually even believes it, she's already crying. Dimly, she's aware of Arthur coming over to her side. Though she's only spoken to him sporadically since the job, and though he doesn't seem one for physical contact, she wraps both arms around him and holds onto him tightly. Her heart is breaking more for Arthur than it is for herself. She suspects that he doesn't have many other people in his life.

"They'll let you see him, if you want," Arthur tells her quietly, breaking the embrace off after a minute or so.

"Will you stay?" Arthur hesitates.

"I was here when it happened," he says slowly. "I've already spoken with the doctors." His voice cracks on the last word and Ariadne thinks he might cry. He doesn't.

"What happened?" Arthur still hasn't acknowledged her first question, but she thinks it's safe to assume that the answer is no.

"He just went. It happens with coma patients."

"What do you think happened… in the dream?"

Arthur sighs. "I don't know, Ariadne. Maybe he'd just been there too long. But I don't really think it has anything to do with that."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

The question hangs. Arthur blinks, as though it's the only one he doesn't have an answer to.

"Of course," he assures her, after the pause, and before she knows what's happening, he has kissed her gently on the forehead. "I need to make some phone calls, Ariadne. But I'll see you soon."

She sinks against the wall as she watches him leave, watches his swift, even steps, all the while well aware that Cobb's empty body is lying in the room behind her back. She looks at her shoes, takes a moment to compose herself. When she looks up again, Arthur's gone.

* * *

It's mid-afternoon when Saito gets the call, which means that it's nearing midnight in the States. He respects Arthur for that; he's ever the proper associate, making calls according to the other party's timezone. "Saito," he answers simply, and waits for more proper business protocol.

He gets none. "Cobb's dead," Arthur's voice says simply. Saito's breath catches in his chest.

"When?"

"About seven hours ago."

"How?"

Arthur pauses just a tiny moment before answering; it's the first time that Saito has sensed any real emotion in him besides anger or annoyance. "He just went. He just never woke up."

Saito takes his own brief pause to think of Cobb, the man who saved his life, the man who got him out of limbo, but never got out from it himself. They were supposed to have returned together, but now Saito knows the truth. Once you're an old man, you're never a young man again, no matter what your body tells you.

"Good," Saito says quietly, then remembers to add, "but I am sorry for the loss of your partner, Arthur."

Arthur doesn't acknowledge the sentiment, moving on instead to facts. He really is the perfect Point Man, although now of course he's a Point Man with no one to report to. "The funeral is Thursday at ten a.m., California time. Can we expect you?"

"Yes, of course. And if there is anything I could help with in terms of financing…"

"It's taken care of," Arthur assures him. Then there is that hesitation again. "I do need to ask a favor though, Saito."

"Name it."

"When he died… I was in the room. It happened quickly, like I said, and the doctors tell me that this isn't unusual. But there's a slight chance that they'll open an investigation on it. A slight chance," Arthur reiterates.

Despite everything, Saito almost wants to laugh; none of these children can keep their noses clean for ten minutes, can they? "Of course," Saito assures him. "If it goes to an investigation and you become a person of interest, of course I will make that go away. Things just happen, Arthur. I know this."

"Thank you," Arthur says flatly.

"Thank you for letting me know," Saito replies. "I will see you on Thursday."

"On Thursday," Arthur agrees. Then the line goes dead. Saito hunches over his desk, his back stiff with remembered pain, and rests his chin on one hand. It is a good thing, truly, that Cobb has been freed. If it had gone on much longer, he might have sent orders to have Cobb _released_ anyway. Limbo is no place to be for one heartbeat. It's certainly no place to be for six months. He shivers at the thought. He shivers to think that after everything, that even after his name was cleared, Cobb still died alone.

Then Saito looks numbly down at his own empty ring finger; thinks numbly back on the call, on Arthur's voice. It was a very old man's voice coming from a very young man's mouth. Still numb, he thinks, _maybe, there is no other way to die for men like us_.

* * *

Eames guesses that it's a good funeral, but who knows? Funerals can't exactly be _good_ in the same way that strip shows can be _good_ or poker games can be _good_. In any case, it's a tasteful and well-planned affair. It's not terribly well attended, but someone has thought of this ahead of time and booked a small room, so that the seats are more or less filled. He sits in a row between Yusuf and Ariadne; Arthur is on the girl's other side, and Saito beyond him. _What a merry little reunion_, Eames is tempted to say, but Christ, even he has some sense of decorum, you know.

Ariadne cries and Eames waits to see if Arthur will do something about it; when he still hasn't after a few minutes, Eames wraps an arm around her small body and pulls her against him. A cousin that none of them has met before presents a touching eulogy, somehow managing to work around the fact that Dom Cobb spent the last years of his life on the run.

Outside, after the service, Eames meets up with Ariadne again. Arthur is still at her side, and he wants to tell him to bugger off if he can't even hold the girl when she cries- but again, _decorum_. "Thought you'd be with the kids," Eames tells him casually instead.

Arthur looks up at him blankly. "I'm heading over there later." Something in his eyes, something in his dead face, drains the humor right out of Eames. In half a decade of acquaintance, he has never seen this look on Arthur. And he doesn't like it.

"Ariadne, love," he says smoothly. "Give us a minute, will you?" She nods, leaves, and Arthur watches her go like she's taking his last hope with her.

"You don't look good, mate," Eames says, and though he means it to come out sort of robust and joking, it comes out rather quiet.

"What do you want, Eames?" Arthur demands flatly. If looks could kill… well, he supposes, Arthur already kills things. But if looks could kill, he'd be even more efficient.

"Hey hey." Eames holds his hands up. "I can't show concern?"

"Not typically, no."

"Well, fuck it," Eames says. "This is me, showing concern. He'd been gone for half a year already, Arthur. He'd been in _limbo_ for half a year. Don't you think maybe it's better this way?"

Arthur smiles wanly, and suddenly Eames feels like he's missing something important. "Yes. I do think it's better this way."

"Good. Well, buck up, then. I think you're upsetting the girl."

There's an almost wistful look on Arthur's face, and Eames is suddenly and terribly afraid that one of the two of them is going to break. He doesn't know which he'd put his money on, honestly. But then the moment safely passes. "You never change, do you, Eames?"

"Not if I can help it, darling. Well. Not when we're awake, at least." He's foolishly proud of himself when Arthur laughs a little at that. He reaches out firmly, pumps the other man's small hand. "Be seeing you around, I'm sure. Can't lose you for trying."

"See ya round, Eames," Arthur agrees, and a strange comfort passes between them as they both acknowledge the inevitability of this. Death, taxes, and irritating coworkers.

"Buh-bye!" Eames calls out, affecting a bright American accent. Arthur shakes his head as he walks away.

It's funny what passes for normal in this godforsaken underworld.

* * *

The park is maybe a bit too close to Central Park, but Cobb is letting it slide. He isn't training Arthur to be an architect, and he didn't select him for a stunning imagination. The snow is a neat trick, though, he has to admit. It falls heavily, yet the air is only pleasantly cool.

"Are you listening, Arthur?" Cobbs snaps. It's not like Arthur to hesitate in answering a question, and though this question in particular might seem a bit scary to some, he'd been sure that Arthur would handle it just like any other. The hesitation worries him so much that he nearly sighs in relief when Arthur nods.

"Yes. And yes."

"Yes what?" Cobb prompts. Arthur glares daggers up at him, and pushes to his feet from where he'd been kneeling in the snow, forming it deftly into impossible shapes with the merest touch of his fingers.

"Yes I heard you. And yes to your question."

"Arthur…"

"I'll do it if I have to, Cobb. I'll do it right now if you don't shut up." Behind Arthur's blank face and deadpan voice, Cobb senses the ghost of good humor. He begins to relax.

"Good. Because you know… you think your pain tolerance is high. But you get into a dream situation where you're in such bad pain that you should almost die from it, but you just can't… I've seen it drive people insane."

"Do you want me to cross my heart?"

Cobb frowns. Arthur is having a smidge too much fun with this, although maybe that's the only way to handle such a request. "I just want you to remember that you'd actually be saving my life."

"Cobb," Arthur says quietly, and there is no longer a sense of joviality behind his solemn mask. The sobriety now goes straight down to his core. This is the Point Man that Cobb saw in Arthur from day one- the man of action lurking near the surface of the gawky twenty two-year-old. "If it comes to it, and I need to kill you, I will."

"Thank you. Remember"-

"I know." Other men would turn away, but Arthur looks him straight in the eye as he speaks. "I know. I'll really be saving you."


End file.
